I have to wear WHAT to graduate?
by BlackWolfHowling
Summary: Needing a music credit to graduate, but not wanting anything to do with the Marching Band, a football player joins the colorguard. BEING RE-WRITTEN! CHECK MY PROFILE FOR THE NEW VERSION
1. The Football Player

_AN: Shewhodanceswithdragons sent me a plot-bunny 'cause I asked her to, and this is what I got out of it. If the story stinks, it's my fault, not hers._

"_Jake Baul, please report to the office. Jake Baul to the office."_

When the class heard that, their was the typical jeering, but most of the class was confused. Jake never got called down to the office. After all, he was the lead quarterback of the football team, as well as a strait-A student. Why should he got called down?

_At the office_

"You called me?" Jake asked. He was tall, with short black hair and brown eyes. Almost all the girls thought he was cute, and those who didn't kept their mouths shut or got talked down to by those who did. _"What's the principal doing here?"_ Jake thought with surprise.

"Yes, Jake. If you are not aware of this, all students must participate in music to graduate. You have not." After the principal finished saying this, the band, chorus, and orchestra directors walked in. The principal addressed them now. "Jake does not have his music credit, sirs. Can any of you supply him with this?"

"No." All three teachers said simultaneously.

"Well, not in Concert Band, but the Marching Band could take him." G, the band director said.

"No way, I'm not joining those losers." Jake said haughtily. The teacher wisely chose to not comment on this as he could not punish him, but he did have to offer the other music credit option.

"It's that or the colorguard."

"Oh, please no." Jill, one of the colorguard members said. She had just returned from a doctor's appointment and overheard the comment. She was one of the few people who openly disliked Jake. Her friend Emma was the other one. Unfortunately, Jake returned the sentiment, and took every opportunity to torture the two.

"It's better than the band," he said with a smug smile.

Jill growled in annoyance, but then smirked as an amusing thought came to her, a smirk she quickly covered up with a scowl. "Fine," she said, her voice very aggravated. "First meeting's tomorrow from six to nine." She added, walking out the door, all but laughing with malicious mirth. She had conveniently "forgot" to mention the sacred rule of the sport: If you're early, you're on time; if you're on time, you're late; and if you're late, you're dead.

"Okay, see you there," Jake said to her retreating form.

"Whatever." Jill said over her shoulder, heading to lunch. She had to find Emma.

_AN: Don't forget, if the story's bad, it's my fault. If the story's good, credit goes to Shewhodanceswithdragons, who's name really needs to be shortened._


	2. Bad News

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Disclaimer: I don't own this plot

"Emma, I have bad news." Jill said when she saw her friend at lunch.

"Come on, it can't be that bad." Emma said with a slight smile.

"Wanna bet?" Jill asked. "Because here it is..."

_"WHAT?!"_

Emma exclaimed. "Jake the _football_ player is joining the _colorguard_?"

"Unfortunately, but look at the bright side." Jill said, attempting to pacify her livid friend.

"_What_ bright side?"

"He's a football player who has to look pretty. Not to mention the fact that he has to learn that which we've been doing for years. He'll be shown up daily." Jill and Emma shared a laugh at the idea, and then ate their lunch in silence.

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6:00

"You're late." Eric, the instructor said.

"No I'm not. It's 6:00. That's when I was told to be here."

"Don't you know anything!" Brad, a junior, exclaimed. "If you're early, you're on time; if you're on time, you're late; and if you're late, you're dead. The latest you can be is 15 minutes early."

"No one told me that!" Jake exclaimed indignantly.

"Oops." Jill said with an amused smirk.

"Why you little…" Jake trailed off in mid-threat after seeing the glare the instructors and other colorguard members had fixed on him.

"Line up for across the floors." Eric said after a few moments.

"This should be fun." Jill said quietly to Emma.

"Jake, point your feet! Jake, stay on tempo! Jake, do it RIGHT!" Were only a few of the things that were constantly heard by the colorguard, with a few instructions to the other members now and then. By the time the guard was finished with the warm-ups alone, Jake was tired and grouchy.

_"And Emma, Jill, Brad, and the rest of those losers are just fine!"_ He thought angrily.

But warm-ups were just the beginning. Jake then found out his true enemy in guard: The Flag.

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AN: Dun Dun Dun! Sorry I took so long to update. I was doing other things instead.


	3. The Flag

_Disclaimer: I don't own this plot or the people I based some characters off of.

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The instructors gave a brief overview of what a drop spin is and then started off with eight.

_CLANK_! Was the sound made by a metal pole making contact with the gym floor.

"It's a drop spin, not a drop spin." Eric said.

"What?" Jake, the dropper, asked.

"Don't drop it!" Eric yelled.

It turned out, however, that drop spins were not the only thing dropped that night. Pull hits were worse, and tosses, well, a drop was only the second thing they heard.

"OW!" Jake cried as the flag hit him on the head. Jill, who was just starting to toss again, was so startled by the cry that her toss went awry, and she had to chase her flag, wincing slightly when the catch was bad.

"Here's a hint," she hissed, "CATCH!" That said, she went back to where she was in the block and resumed what she was doing.

A few weeks passed, and Jake had mostly figured out to do drop spins, pull hits, and somewhat tossing. He was also smug because he had stopped being exhausted after warm-ups. However, the bane of his existence was about to be discovered: the wonderful horror that is known as…band camp.


	4. Band Camp

_Disclaimer: I don't own this chapter. I gave my notebook with this story to Shewhodanceswithdragons and said 'write it.' That said, I do own Jake and Jill._

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Band camp. Any veteran band geek knows it's always best to arrive at least a half hour early and well-hydrated, with plenty of sunscreen lathered on.

It makes it easy to pick out the rookies…

"All right, guys, grab your drill, stuff it, grab chalk, and water and-" the band director was interrupted by Jake staggering into the band room, clutching a coke in one hand and a candy bar in the other. All eyes turned to glare.

"Jake." The band director might have sounded calm to those new to the band, but the veterans shrank back from his wrath. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh…9:10?" He guessed.

"9:12. Everyone else was here before quarter of nine. I know your section leaders called to remind you, so what's your excuse?"

"Umm…I overslept?"

"Inexcusable. You will give me ten pushups for every minute late, so that's two hundred and seventy pushups you owe me, right now. You will give me half that amount before any break you get today. Am I clear?"

"Whatever."

"That is not an acceptable answer. You will call me 'Sir' until I decide you are fit enough to call me 'G!' Now drop and give me 270."

To Jake, being the mighty football player that he was, 270 pushups was nothing. As he began, however, he felt something large and furry get on top of him. His cheeks burned with shame as the entire band laughed at him, doing pushups while the director's dog sat on top of him. He glanced up only once, in which he saw Emma leaning against her boyfriend as they started drill, both laughing at his humiliation.

The shame turned to rage as he continued his punishment.

********

As the hot sun beat down upon the parking lot, most kids kept comfortable. Through experience, whether it was their own or an upperclassman's, they wore sneakers, shorts that didn't chafe, light T-shirts or tank-tops, a hat, and plenty of sunscreen.

Jake, on the other hand…

"Whassa matter, Jaky boy? Cant' handle the heat?"

Jake squinted up from where he had collapsed on the hill at Devon, section leader of the trombones and Emma's boyfriend.

"Go way," he grunted. He really hadn't pup the weather forecast in mind when he dressed in flip-flops, jeans, and a black sweatshirt.

"Now is that any way to speak to an upperclassman? I should make you do pushups, but you're going to be sore enough as is tomorrow."

"Did Emma send you over here to hasten my slow death?"

Both looked over to where Emma, looking cool and collected in blue boxers, gray tank-top, and a high ponytail chatted with some flutes.

"No, I'm just here to warn you. I saw how you tried to trip her, and if I see or hear off any other "incidents" there's going to be trouble. Got it?"

Devon might have been an inch or so shorter than Emma, and at least three inches shorter than Jake, but at that moment, he seemed to tower, over him. Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and started to walk towards Emma.

"Whipped…"

Faster than you could say "Kill Dr. Beat," he whipped around and barked out, "Twenty pushups, one-armed, NOW!"

Grudgingly, Jake rolled over to do them, but wasn't prepared for the sudden weight of a leaping golden retriever and collapsed amongst a sea of laughter, most of it coming from the group Devon had just joined.

He had a feeling his cheeks would be permanently red by the end of band camp...


	5. Band Camp Day 2

_AN: I don't particularly like this chapter, so if anyone has an idea on how to make it better, please tell me.  
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_Disclaimer: I only own Jill and Jake_

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* * *

_If Jake thought day one was bad, day two was even worse. He had never been so sore in his life. _"And I thought football practice wore me out."_ The soon-to-be senior thought. To make matters worse, he had a horrendous sunburn. Remembering yesterday's encounter, he dressed accordingly in a white shirt and white shorts. On top of that he had plenty of both sunscreen and water. Not wanting to be humiliated like yesterday, he showed up at exactly 8:45.

"Look who showed up on time." Jill said to Emma and Brad, her best friends since she joined colorguard.

"I heard that, idiot." Jake snarled at her. While it wasn't exactly true, Jill couldn't refute the statement, and he knew it. With a 4.0 GPA, he was pretty much guaranteed valedictorian.

Usually, Jill either ignored him, or did her best to come up with a scathing insult, of which she knew plenty. This time however, she arched an eyebrow, smirked slightly, and used something that she had had for over a year but never taken advantage of: rank. "Jake, that's 50 pushups followed by two laps around the school. Today." Brad and Emma, along with the other guard and band members laughed with intense amusement. It was cruel, and not Jill's style to do so, but they all relished the opportunity to get some revenge on the football team through this lone player.

"You're kidding me." Jake said, not believing that _Jill_ of all people, the only person who hadn't laughed when the band directors' dog jumped on him, would do that. The look in her eyes, however, said a resounding 'no.' "I don't have to take orders from an idiot." At that, Jill's eyes flashed with an anger that she usually didn't let herself feel.

"Jake," she said icily, "right now I'm in a good mood. Keep it up, though, and I'll double the pushups and laps."

"And if you don't get started right now, you'll owe me double what you owe Jill." Brad added, long since fed up with this football player's insolence.

"That means start doing pushups, NOW!" Kasie, one of the guard captain's added. Grudgingly, Jake dropped down to do his 50, which he did surprisingly quickly."

"Satisfied?" He snarled at Jill.

"Hm…I seem to recall ordering two laps around the school. You can do those sometime between now and dinner. _Then_ I'll be satisfied." That said, Jill walked into the guard room and grabbed the flag bag she was given responsibility of.

Emma and Brad talked quietly about how surprising it was for Jill to pull her rank. Brad chalked it up to yesterday's practice. Though she was fine with a flag, she had had the usual hard time with rifle, although even she had admitted she was better than in indoor.

"Well, whatever the reason, I think I like this Jill." Emma said. Before Brad could comment, Jill called him over to ask for some help. The instructors had told her that they wanted her doing backhands and hops by the end of the week, and she was still having trouble with them.

"All right, band, get you drill and stuff it quickly! I want to be on the field in 5 minutes." G said, loudly in order to be heard over the talking band members.

"Just when I was almost getting it." Jill griped. She wasn't that angry because she was well aware that she could ask Brad for help later on, or even Emma. She knew that she could ask anyone in the guard for help, but usually chose to ask those two because she knew them the best.

* * *

_On the field_

While the band did a basics block, the colorguard did their own warm ups. After some brief flag warm-ups, the instructors had the rifles get their rifles and then split up into two groups.

As Brad obediently, if grudgingly, did his flag warm ups, he looked at the rifles. Not because he was jealous (so he told himself), but because he loved to see Jill mess up. The second he heard the word 'backhands,' he paid even more attention to them. It helped that Drake, the person running flags, had let them have a small break. He noted with amusement the nervousness on Jill's face.

"All right, rifles, do eight backhands." Eric said, also watching Jill a little more than the others. She was still fairly knew to the weapon line, and he wanted to be able to point out any mistakes quickly. Eight backhands didn't take long, and the rifles were looking at him for the next direction, except for one. Jill, as she was wont to do when she did something incorrectly and she knew it, was looking down. "Jill." He said, waiting the moment it took for her head to immediately shoot up and her eyes to fix on him, "you're much closer than usual." Truth be told, she was doing them correctly, she just wasn't getting her hand turned around fast enough. "Do it again," he told the other rifles. "And Drake, why are the flags just sitting there?" He snapped before counting off the rifles.

While Eric was saying that, Jill was smiling to herself. _"It's freaky how the instructors always seem to know when to give an encouraging word."_ She thought, for this wasn't the first time that had happened. After they did backhands and hops on both left and right hand, the rifles were allowed to take a break since the flags had had one.

"You really were close." Emma said, knowing that Jill had pretty much no self-confidence and usually didn't fully believe it when she was told that she was doing fine.

"Sure." Jill said, knowing why Emma had said that and not in the mood to argue about it. She saw the look Emma gave her, though. _"It would seem that this discussion isn't over yet."_ She thought, gathering her equipment, water, and dot book when G indicated that he was ready for the guard.

First, they spent a little bit reviewing yesterday's drill, and then grabbed some chalk to mark that days.

"_What is _with_ this drill?"_ Jill thought. She had gotten almost adept at correctly marking her dots, and between marking she looked at the formations. They were complicated. "This'll be fun." She said under her breath. She knew how grueling band camp was, especially if G kept up the tradition of never giving them water and driving her crazy with the words 'one more time.'

So far, he wasn't letting her down. They had been working on drill for going on an hour and a half, and they still hadn't gotten a break. It wasn't until one of the seniors told G that a freshman was about to pass out from dehydration that G said the magic words 'five minute break.'

Jake gratefully collapsed onto the hill next to his water. "Good grief, but this heat is ridiculous!" He said.

"What heat?" Jill, the resident Southerner asked in a slightly smart-aleck tone of voice. Their were three reasons that Jake kept his mouth shut: one-she said that to everyone and her friends got it worse; two-he didn't feel like doing more push-ups; three-he was already planning his revenge come winter.

"Come on, Jill, it's almost 100 degrees out here." Brad said, slightly irritated that Jill seemed to be the only one not dying from the heat-and she was wearing _pants_ for goodness sake!

"Prove it." Jill said, after which Brad handed over his thermometer. "I didn't know they made these things digital for outdoors." She said looking at it and noting that they were in the shade. "Cool! Five more degrees and it will be genuinely hot! Come on, heat wave!" She said excitedly. Privately, she admitted that it was kinda hot, but she loved making her the friends angry by doing that. Seeing the look that Brad gave her, she explained. "Hot, my friend, is 104 degrees in the shade."

"Oh, shut up!" said an irate Emma. Usually Jill's 'it's not hot' antics were amusing, but in 99 degree weather, it was just plain annoying.

"Jill, if you don't drink your water I'm going to force down your throat and then order you to wear shorts tomorrow!" Christie, one of the guard instructors called over. Obediently, Jill started drinking her water, admittedly partially because she was afraid that Christie really would order her to wear shorts.

Five minutes never lasts long enough and, remarkably, G learned to tell time and at five minutes on the dot had them back out on the field. Knowing that 'his kids' were irritated at going so late, it was 12:15, he gave them good news. "Okay, band, after we learn these last two sets we'll break for lunch." The exhausted band and guard kids all gave an excited cheer and did their best to quickly learn these last two sets. However, it turned out that G actually meant _learn_ them, as in be able to march all the sets from both yesterday and today, so it was 1:00 when they finished. "Okay, back out here at two." The relieved band kids quickly ran inside while the colorguard members went to their instructors.

"John, your show writer, is going to be here until four, so I want all of you in the gym at two, not out here. And if the mat isn't set up you're running laps." Eric said sternly.

"Speaking of laps, Jake, you still owe me two." Jill said as she passed him.

"Does he?" Eric said, overhearing the comment. When Jill, along with the rest of the colorguard, nodded, Eric looked at Jake and said, "do them now."

"I'd recommend hurrying." Kasie added. "You won't get extra time to eat." Grudgingly, and with a glare at Jill, Jake started-and to his credit finished- his two laps.

_AN: 'Heat is 104 degrees in the shade' is something my grandmother once said, so I don't own that statement. And for those who noticed the title change, flute de la doom gave me a bunch of title ideas, and I picked some things from two of them. So Flute de la doom gets and E-cookie! And many thanks to the reader who noticed my mistake from earlier.  
_


End file.
